Trafika Europe 9/10 - UK in Europe

nine poems

Hinterland

Walk in my Hinterland breathe through straws of sun, Step on the cobbled grey where angels stalk the perimeter of day Gaze towards phallic tubes smoking death - through red concrete a glittery coat where Seagulls feed on a circled shaped crow like roadkill in blackened slate.

Far from broken waves that pulsate the blood of land humming green arena – These whispers of motorway;

lost B-roads – Just punch marks in plasterboard decorated like Holy bullet holes. I drift in the light where sea chains shackled to the harbour; sway me into openings of yellow reflections like a sea otter counting fish heads walk with me into my hinterland.

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